


Glanni Glaepur leaves Lazytown

by foxy_mulder



Category: Glanni Glæpur í Latabæ, LazyTown
Genre: Flirting, Glanni/Bessie Busybody mention, Like he is an Upstanding Moral Boy like n the play he wants to do whats right, M/M, Misunderstanding, Riding, Rimming, vaguely fluffy?, Íþróttaálfurinn is not a total asshole
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-12 05:20:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9057256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxy_mulder/pseuds/foxy_mulder
Summary: Glanni had just stayed here too long, and gotten overly attached. Íþró could never want him unless he became a good man, so he had a choice here, either stay and change his ways or go on his way forever. He made up his mind.





	1. Chapter 1

"Glanni Glaepur, back again, hm?"

Glanni jumped, twisting to see who had recognised him. Íþróttaálfurinn, of course.  
That asshole never fell for his disguises.

"Why yes, Elf, I am." He smiled in mock sweetness.

Íþró flipped over Glannis freshly painted cart of "special canned water" and stared at it, then at him, unimpressed.

"Canned water? Doesn't look like water. It looks..." He leaned in so that their noses were touching. "...like soda."

How could someone say such innocuous words in such a threatening way? It was beyond logic. And yet, here they were. God, he was so terrifying. Glanni shivered. Then he remembered himself and grinned, catlike and confident.

"Don't knock it til you try it, honey." 

He winked. That one usually worked on suspicious men and ladies alike. But not on this one, damn him.  
Íþróttaálfurinn kicked his stand over and the chase began. Glanni was in shape, able to dash away quickly, but being pursued by the epitome of good health was a challenge. It gave him a thrill. He raced up and down Lazytown, panting slightly in exertion. When he turned, Íþróttaálfurinn still hadn't broken a sweat. His stupid elf magic made it easier for him, too- popping up in front of Glanni when it should have been impossible, then behind, then in front again. Finally Glanni tired of the game, slowing just enough to allow himself to be grabbed roughly and slammed into the wall. He looked dizzily at his captor and smiled softly, sweating from the chase. They always seemed to end up here.   
Íþróttaálfurinn looked at him, gaze flicking down and back up again, making sure he hadn't hurt Glanni with his roughhousing. He licked his lips and spoke firmly.

"Leave town. Don't come back."

Glanni nodded thoughfully, as if he was really considering it.

"Make me," he purred. And, of course the elf really _would_ make him. But he would keep coming back, just as he had been already, for the past few months. What choice did he have but to come back? This town had charm.  
Íþróttaálfurinn shoved away from him and flipped away across town, Glanni staring longingly after him.  
 _One specific charm to it, actually._

 

Honestly, Glanni was running out of ideas. He had been in town for months since his first scheme, wearing disguise after disguise, playing trick after trick. He should have skipped town and run the same scams on fresh audiences by now. But something kept him in Lazytown. And that was Íþróttaálfurinn's beautiful ass.

Well, at first it had been, anyway. Now it was more like Íþróttaálfurinns beautiful _everything._

Glanni was not sure of how to deal with this- no one had ever declined to be with him before. They would at least _sleep_ with him, for christ sake. But the elf seemed to be totally immune to his attempts at seduction- and he'd tried everything. Lip biting, casual touching, different tones of voice, tight pants, heels, strategic lollipops, you name it.

Was he just not attractive like he used to be?

Glanni stared into the mirror of his hotel room. He was dressed as a traveling salesman, in tight black jeans and a turtleneck. His lipstick looked perfect, his hair looked perfect. He thought he looked completely fuckable, even after all the chasing and pinning to walls. 

_So what the hell, Íþróttaálfurinn?_

He groaned in frustration and flopped onto the bed. Of course it wasn't about looks to Íþróttaálfurinn. The reason he hadn't slept with Glanni was obviously his moral character. He ate sweets constantly, scammed the townsfolk, even kids (especially kids, the fools), and he had sex with Bessie Busybody that one time, just to spite the mayor.   
Glanni was not an upstanding citizen. And he loved it that way.

But boy, was this crush getting in the way of making money! This town had grown suspicious of newcomers, and much more wary of his schemes. Anything bad that happened was blamed on him (to be fair, it was almost always his fault.) This didn't ever happen in other towns, because the moment they caught on, he was chased out or left forever. He knew at some point he was going to have to leave and make trouble elsewhere- eventually Íþróttaálfurinn would get tired of throwing him out of town and just kill him or something. But he had grown fond of this town, and even of the brats in it. Stupid, gullible things should have _thanked_ him for teaching them to be suspicious of everything and to hate strangers. 

He went out to buy snacks at the next town over (Lazytown no longer had a snack shop- they just ate the food they grew) and decided maybe it really was time to move on. Íþróttaálfurinn didn't care about him, wouldn't even have sex with him after all his efforts, and everyone else in town despised him. It was fine. He did this in every town. It was fine. He had just stayed here too long, and gotten overly attached- Íþró could never want him unless he became a good man, so he had a choice here, either stay and change his ways or go on his way forever. 

He made up his mind.

When he got back to his hotel, he packed up his disguises and left, this time for good.


	2. Chapter 2

Íþróttaálfurinn hadn't seen Glanni in days. He wasn't _worried_ , per say, just curious. What was he up to this time? 

Íþróttaálfurinn had been able to grow vegetables and excercise with the Lazytown residents in peace for 4 days with no snake-oil salesmen, friends of the president, or mysterious old women interrupting. It was nice. He did miss Glannis stupid cat noises and flirtatiousness, though, which were often over the top and amusing. Glanni was a strange guy. And pretty charming, if you ignored his criminal record.

Íþró wanted to- _god,_ he wanted to. The whole "shoving against walls" thing was driving him _fucking crazy._ Of course he knew Glanni couldn't help but behave that way, with his teasing and flirting and general suggestiveness. He was, after all, an actor, and a good one at that. Seduction was a part of trickery. Íþróttaálfurinn was just another person to fool, to Glanni. But he hadn't been fooled yet, and didn't plan to be. Still, he wished Glanni would make a move on him, though he'd never tell Glanni that, smug bastard.  
They had a sort of unspoken... thing, between them. Glanni endangered the whole town, Íþró then saved it, and the cycle started again. 

"Íþróttaálfurinn! Íþróttaálfurinn!" Ah, Ziggy. Right, he was supposed to be getting fertilizer.

"Coming, Ziggy!" he called. Maybe Glanni would show up later to wreak havoc.

 

(He didn't.)

 

Íþróttaálfurinn was frantic now. Two weeks. Never before had Glanni gone two whole weeks without causing trouble. He hadn't even _seen_ him. Was he kidnapped by the MayhemTown Gang? No- he wouldn't let such a thing happen; he was clever enough to have escaped. Where was he, then? Íþróttaálfurinns eyes widened. Did he finally take his advice to heart and... leave town? Íþróttaálfurinn cursed under his breath, then above his breath. He searched the hotel building high and low, finding no sign of him inside. He then went to Lazytowns neighboring towns, where Glanni pulled schemes when he was forcibly removed from Lazytown. Still nothing. He was gone. Glanni was really gone. Lazytown had lost its snake-oil salesman.

Íþróttaálfurinn didn't want him to leave, he realized with a start. The scheming and flirting and dangerous behavior gave him entertainment, and more importantly, a purpose. A hero needs a villian to continue, after all, and the children of Lazytown and its neighbors were getting good enough about living a healthy lifestyle that if it weren't for Glanni's constant temptations and tricks, there would be no need for a hero, at least for awhile. Maybe never again.  
Not to mention Glanni was the only pretty person in town.

He would have to search further, then.


	3. Chapter 3

Glanni was resting comfortably in his hammock in Prideville, where he'd been for... three weeks, give or take.  
He was a Nigerian Prince, this time. Pretty good gig. People kept giving him money, and, it being Prideville, they bragged to all their friends about their generosity to the Prince, who would surely reward them when he got home. They would be billionares.  
Glanni thought of this as a mutually beneficial arrangement. They got bragging rights, he got their money. Totally fair.

He licked his popsicle, which was dripping sluggishly in the heat. Glanni was finally able to relax, not being chased around by that sports elf every time he turned around. He was a little bored, though. Maybe he ought to go inside. He called a pretty lady over and proceeded with the seduction, giving her a big smile and swirling his tongue over the tip of the popsicle. She was riveted, he could tell. He could still get it with beautiful people without having to become a good person, thank you very much, Íþróttaálfurinn. He whispered in her ear and she giggled. They headed over to her place. 

"Glanni?"

He lowered his shades, expecting one of the townsfolk to be there with his requested smoothie. It was not.  
A leather clad figure stood tall, practically blocking out the sun. Terrifying.  
"Íþróttaálfurinn." Glanni said it flippantly, taking a long lick of the popsicle and casually throwing an arm over the girls shoulders.

"So what brings y-" He was then grabbed by the collar of his shirt, and dragged to the waiting airship.

Íþró looked angry. This was not good. What could he be angry about? Had he extended his range of town protection?! 

"I didn't know you were in charge of Prideville."

"I'm not."

Glanni wasn't sure how to respond to that. He sighed and leaned over the railing.  
They were silent for the rest of the trip back to Lazytown.

As soon as they arrived, Íþróttaálfurinn demanded that Glanni go unpack his things in the hotel room. When he pointed out that he left everything back in Prideville from whence he'd been so rudely dragged, the stupid elf pointed out that he had elven magic.

He unpacked his things, which were miraculously in the hotel. Íþróttaálfurinn arrived soon after he finished, doing his usual hand walking routine, which Glanni wouldn't (couldn't) ever do, because really- there were classier ways to impress. Glanni was certainly not in the mood for such ridiculousness right now.

"So what's this about, huh? I leave Lazytown, like you asked all those times, and go cause trouble elsewhere- and you're _still_ not happy?! What do you want?" He huffed, tapping a manicured nail against his cheek in annoyance. Where did the bastard get off doing this?

"I need you to cause trouble _here._ "

Glanni worried his lip. What? This day was not going how he planned. Was he _asking_ him to poison everyone again, because-

"And for gods sake, you always do this- just _fuck_ me if you're going to keep doing the lip thing!"

Okay. This day was going exactly perfectly. He regretted nothing.  
"Thought you'd never ask."

They stumbled to the bed, Íþró straddling Glanni as he tugged at Íþrós leather. He finally found the ties in the back- bad design for clothing- and practically tore it off. Íþróttaálfurinn, on the other hand, literally tore Glannis clothes off. They were fucking expensive, too. He glared and lifted his head for a kiss. It was all teeth and tongue; no gentleness whatsoever. Glannis lip was bitten, drawing blood, and he let out a yelp which turned into a moan. He could taste the blood between them. Íþró yanked Glannis pants down, licking his way across his torso and leaving glistening trails of spit until he reached his half-hard cock. He stared for a moment and then flicked it with his finger, which made Glanni jerk in suprise and annoyance.

"C'mon, Íþró, stop fucking around," he rolled his eyes and tried to sit up.

He laughed. "Is that not what we're doing? Fucking around?"

_Ha ha, he thinks he's so funny. Asshole._

Glanni reached out and palmed the thin fabric of Íþrós pants. He was already fully erect, Glanni could tell through the material. Íþróttaálfurinn gasped quietly at his touch, bucking into the movement. He stood up on the bed and literally flipped out of his pants. _flipped._ Glanni rolled his eyes again. Íþró sat next to him.

"How do you want to do this?"

Glanni knew exactly how he wanted to do this.

"Ride me." 

Íþrót didn't seem the least bit phased by the demand, and set about digging the lube from the nightstand drawer.  
"Do you want me to-" He shook his head.  
He drizzled it onto his fingers and pressed his index finger to his own entrance, rotating it and going in knuckle deep before slowly adding another.  
Glanni squirted a sizeable amount onto his palm and spread it over Íþróts length slowly, gripping tighter as he neared the head, to distract him from the pain of the stretch. He lavished kisses across Íþrós stomach and chest, pausing at his left nipple, nipping it then soothing it with his tongue. He kept it up until it was red and shiny, and he could hear the strangled noises the elf was trying not to make as he managed to fit a fourth finger into himself.  
"I'm ready," Íþró said, suprisingly level. Glanni nodded frantically, grabbing hold of Íþrós hips to steady him. Íþró spread his cheeks and lowered himself slowly onto Glannis cock, now swollen and red, aching for attention. He had a look of intense concentration. Fuck, he was tight. This was better than any of his various fantasies. 

Glanni figured he'd give him a few moments to adjust, but Íþró immediately started rolling his hips, fucking himself without Glanni having to do a bit of work. He closed his eyes while Íþró lowered himself back onto his cock, over and over again, whining softly. Glanni had a fleeting thought that he wanted this everyday, but before he could pursue that line of thinking, Íþróttaálfurinn pulled off and flipped him over. Glanni looked up, amused. What was he up to?  
"My turn," Íþróttaálfurinn said.

Glanni couldn't see what Íþró was doing; he was laid out with his bare ass in the air and his face in the pillows. Suddenly there was something hot and wet on his entrance. This was new. Íþró was good with his tongue. He licked a stripe up Glannis crack before swirling the tip teasingly around his hole. Glanni tried to buck into it, but he was held still. Íþrót lapped at the tight ring of muscle, barely inside, and finally plunged in deep. It was soft and hot and _yes, perfect, there._ Glanni vaguely registered that he was speaking, long strings of curses mingled with praise and possibly something else, too, but the coherent parts were slowly giving way to embarrassing little noises. He bit his hand. A drop of sweat dripped down the entirety of his leg. The tongue slid out, and as he was about to protest, he felt something large and blunt take its place at his entrance. Íþró gripped his hips hard enough to bruise.  
_finally._  
Íþró didn't take his time. He slammed into Glanni, moving his entire body with the force, hard and fast and on the edge of painful. Glanni bucked back into the thrusts, forcing Íþró to hit his prostate. He couldn't hold in the sounds anymore, and he gasped and sobbed in time with the movements. His legs were shaking uncontrollably. It was so fucking good.

"Why did you leave?" It sounded labored. 

Of course Íþróttaálfurinn thought this was an appropriate time for a heart to heart chat. Great. Perfect.

"You've been telling me to for- UHHh- forever." Sweat collected on his collarbone.

Íþró slowed down slightly. "You don't do things because,- _fuck,_ \- I want you to do them, Glanni. Quite the opposite."

Well, he had a point. Glanni squirmed. He hated telling the truth.

"I knew I had to choose- between you and being a villain. Villainry won. I like you, elf, but I'm not going to change myself for you."

Íþrós fingernails dug into him, and the pain combined with the pleasure pushed Glanni over the edge. He came screaming. Íþró fucked him through his orgasm and followed soon after. 

 

Then came the awkward part. Íþró was looking at him like he was stupid. (He was not stupid.)

"What?" he snapped. 

"I don't want you to change, Glanni. I know you're a criminal piece of shit, but this town needs you, and so do I. I like chasing you around and destroying your possessions, and I know you feel the same."

"Wow, slow down Casanova." Glanni blushed and rolled his eyes.

"So you'll stay?"

"Yes, if you _insist._ "

Íþróttaálfurinn gave him a long, hard look. So long, Glanni was almost asleep before Íþró spoke.

 

"One more thing?"

"What is it?" he grumbled. 

"Please don't sleep with Bessie anymore."

"It was _one time!_ "

He was never going to live that down.

"Don't sleep with anyone else, either."

Glanni shrugged.

Íþróttaálfurinn hopped out of bed to get a towel from the bathroom. When he returned, he was fully clothed. He threw the towel at Glanni and made to hop out the window.

"Where the hell are you going?" called Glanni.

He turned and smiled blindingly.

"To destroy the canned water stand you hid behind town hall."

Glanni was dressed and chasing him in just minutes.


End file.
